


Scenes From a Mirror War

by heatherandochre



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Multi, Self-Insert, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 12:55:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16118927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heatherandochre/pseuds/heatherandochre
Summary: I awoke naked on my back in a too small body with intestines on my stomach.There was a circle and candles and wild black flames. There was a regal crone of a woman hunched over an old tome reading out reams of Latin. In her hand was a staff crafted from black stained bones topped with a ravens skull.“Hey-” I tried.The crone lifted perfect faceted black eyes to mine. She went back to reading Latin.





	Scenes From a Mirror War

**Author's Note:**

> STOP HERE FIRST:
> 
> The opening seen has themes of non-consent even though there's no sexual content. Even though I've chosen not to warn for this work I still feel that parts of it warrant a warning. If you're sensitive to such content skip to the end of the first scene.

I awoke naked on my back in a too small body with intestines on my stomach.

There was a circle and candles and wild black flames. There was a regal crone of a woman hunched over an old tome reading out reams of Latin. In her hand was a staff crafted from black stained bones topped with a ravens skull. 

“Hey-” I tried.

The crone lifted perfect, faceted black eyes to mine. She went back to reading Latin.

The intestines on my stomach writhed spilling blood and liquid onto my body. Cold and smelling of sulphur they crawled around my joints and my neck. Some of the putrid liquid spilled into my mouth. 

“What are you-” I tried to move but my limbs responded like they were drugged. I was. Drugged. I could feel it in my heavy tongue. 

The crone kept reading. The intestines pulled tight. The flames went out.

There was something over me. It was made of twisting darkness, hanging with the same half rotted entrails that were slowly choking me. It had an open mouth and rows and rows of decayed teeth.

“Please.” I cried. “Please. No.”

The mouth came for mine.

For years after I would wonder how something that horrid could only be the start of a nightmare. When the  _ creatures  _ nightmarish lips met mine I saw the end of everything. All the good in the world vanished. Every happy memory, every pleasurable feeling was replaced with the sound of nails on chalkboards. I saw images from horror movies. Flayed open bodies. Runes that made the mind bend itself to breaking to escape. All the ways you could divide a living creature. All the ways you could violate one in the name of  _ magic.  _

Magic. Magic was  _ real.  _ Magic was  _ evil. _

I saw all those happy and pleasurable things too. Corrupted by an uncaring sadism. Taken past the point of rot. Richness and wealth that turned to madness because what else could you be if you took away all the boundaries? All the places we did not gladly venture where not only open to me, I was their master and their supplicant. All the knowledge I needed to burn this world of the Light was dumped into my unwilling body. 

“Don’t cry.” The crone sneered. “Berenice women don’t cry.”

I didn’t stop crying.

“If you hadn’t been so damn  _ Light. _ ” The crone grumbled. “Turn over girl. I have things for you to wash with.” She pushed a pail of water to me and a rag. Those choking awful ropes were already fading scars - _ scars of binding,  _ a luminous voice whispered,  _ used to bind a fading soul to a stronger one. Delicious. Parasitic. _ \- and I knew would fade to nothing. I knew a lot, now. 

I washed the blood off. “Why?”

“My name is Razia Berenice. Yours is Cleopetra Berenice.” The woman sits in a chair I hadn’t noticed. She seems...small. “I am the Matriarch of the Ancient and Noble House of Berenice. Sometimes known as the House Victorious in other parts of Europe. They did have Europe where you’re from, yes?”

“Oh  _ fuck  _ no.” I hiss.

Razia raises an eyebrow. “Language, girl. I’m sure I jammed an etiquette book in there.”

“You,” I struggled, the gleeful knowledge in my head spitting it out faster than I could interpret. “You used a spell to drag a travelling soul from another  _ reality  _ to augment the soul of your dying child and then you dumped seventeen centuries of Dark Arts into her- my-  _ our  _ head.”

“No.” Razia presses her lips together unhappily. “Eleanor is dead. Her existence has been overwritten with yours. Cleopetra exists now.”  

That was true. “Why?” I washed for want of something else to do.

“In the year of 1980 the entire Berenice family will be killed in one night. We are forty five strong. I have already befouled myself -stripping myself of beauty, of health, of power and finally of child to create something capable of stopping this. I know the name of our murderer.”

I carefully soaped my sore ankles. I was perhaps fifteen. “Then kill him first.”

“His name is Tom Marvolo Riddle.” Her dark eyes glimmered. “And I cannot. I dare not.”

“Lord Voldemort?” I felt the snap of a  _ trace.  _ It broke against the wards. 

“Tom.” Razia nodded. “You will ascertain  _ why  _ he did it.”

“No.”

“Yes.” The crone smiled. “Because I will die in the year of 1981 if things go as planned. As you know already my willing release of you on my deathbed is the only thing that will save you from the curse I have placed. That Dark knowledge is not to  _ aid  _ you. It is to to corrupt your soul just slowly enough to encourage you. If I am not  _ willing,  _ and I will not be if my family dies,  _ you  _ will suffer for your entire wretched existence. You do not have the fortitude to survive this curse. You are far too Light.”

Yes. I knew that was true. “Why does it matter  _ why? _ ”

Razia sneered. “Because I can stop  _ why  _ I simply cannot stop  _ who _ .”

True true  _ true.  _ Dammit woman! Lie to me!

“You used your own daughter.” I whispered. “This is her body. I’m  _ her _ .”

“No. Eleanor is dead.” Razia looked down at the thing that was not her child. “You are Cleopetra. A creation of mine. Not my daughter.”

That was true. Damn it all. 

“What happens when you release me?” She could kill me, I knew. She had already destroyed everything else.

She shrugged. “You live or die as you please. I cannot lie to you, frankenstein. I have so bound myself in your creation.”

True. Long moments later, tortuous ones where the Dark knowledge in my head churned, I reached out a hand in acceptance.

\--

The first time Cleopetra Berenice makes herself known to him is when they’re collectively sitting in the space designated for the 5th year heirs in one of Slytherin’s many side chambers. Severus is here on sufferance and Narcissa’s impeccable breeding, one of few to ever attain such an honour, although the shambles their House is in suggests it will not be so for long. Even now there are only five heirs to a room that should comfortably hold thrice that number. The Lord in the Dark is amassing followers and sycophants quickly pulling directly from this very room but humans breed slow and it is hard to find good followers in the rabble. He’s avoided serious consideration due to breeding and Narcissa’s careful interference but with Lucius recently graduated and her own wedding to him happening within the standard five years, she will not have the social room to insist that her Potions partner is unsuitable for recruitment. It will not be long until his careful alliance with the most cunning of the Black sisters must give way to adulthood. They are both painfully aware of this.

Cleopetra, on the other hand, has only recently started making waves. The Berenice family is old blood and dark magic. They have been frustratingly neutral about blood status. Their main family, Cleopetra’s line, is as pure as they come. Their cadet branches are bred according to specifics only they seem to understand. They are kingmakers, artisans of influence. It was the fashion for many centuries for a Berenice woman to only fast herself to another when the were destined for greatness. To have one even as suitor remains a tremendous sign of respect.

The Berenice line and the Zabini line have often intermarried, hailing from the same African ancestor, and Severus can only  _ imagine  _ what those family gatherings are like.

True to her ancestors Cleopetra is beautiful: dark skinned, bright eyed, dark haired. But it is her fighting power that has won her the attention of her peers. For four years she was a straight backed, impeccable mannered,  _ quietly _ perfect example of a Slytherin woman. In the first three weeks of 5th year she found, challenged and won duels against the unspoken warriors of each house. She so humiliated the Gryffindor 7th year that held the title he went home for a week to recover.

It was the curse she put on the Hufflepuff brute that  _ really  _ entranced Slytherin. 

Both of his arms bent behind his back, broken, and were held in perfect stasis at an uncomfortable angle from his body. The bone-crunching noise echoed through the wide duelling hall increased in severity for every ten minutes he was under the spell. Henrique Bustion was not what anyone would call nice -there had been copious rumors about what he was willing to do to muggleborn girls in empty classrooms, but his pureblood status, his physical strength and magical prowess had kept him safe. 

Cleopetra refused to do the counterspell for nearly four hours. Pomfrey had saved his arms but it had been a near thing. She should have been expelled but Bustion was a monster and, as he overheard it argued, a school with a house for the brave could only be angry someone else hadn’t gotten there first. 

The Berenice family has ten generations of pureblood on the Bustion’s. They have supplicants in every house of power. One of the Bustion paper mills was quietly absorbed into the Berenice empire for even  _ suggesting  _ it’s heir was in the wrong for using Dark magic against it’s fourth born. 

Such was Slytherin. Such was the world. 

Cleopetra isn’t a Queen of her house yet -such a title reserved for the most perfected woman within seven years of schooling from the last- but she is coming damnably close. Narcissa beats her for longevity of influence but does not win due to the Black’s general waning grip on sanity. Walburga cutting her son from the line, regardless of his personal allegiance, is a mark against their breeding. If she were already a Malfoy...

Well. He has seen their careful, ridiculous courting of each other. Careful cups of tea, careful overtures in their respective fields of study: Potions and Charms for Narcissa and Defense and Runes for Cleopetra. Narcissa already carries the envy and interest of the pureblood girls below her as an example of feminine power. Cleopetra carries the respect and favor of the half-bloods and muggleborn, such as they are, because the Berenice family does not care as long as they don’t aspire to the main house. Both are watched because boys will become men and they are beautiful. As well as some, like Severus, who do not think  _ ambition  _ only favors men. Eventually the power dynamics of Slytherin will settle again and people will remake their alliances accordingly.  

His is already chosen, of course. Loyalty is a house attitude if a lesser one. That and the combined force of the Black title and the Malfoy one is hard to resist. 

Avery turns a page in his book, sighs, and baldly says, “So why  _ aren’t  _ you all on our Lord’s side Berenice?”

Cleopetra glances up from where she is on the floor. Legs tucked to the side with parchment after parchment of complicated runic arrays around her. Nott, not the heir but here on his orders, is greedily reading it over. “Why would we follow a man who doesn’t understand the necessity of a woman’s touch in leading?”

Severus, Nott and Narcissa get the reference immediately. Until what the muggles call the Age of Industry and their betters call the Gilding, a woman’s place was at the head of the familial image. She controlled the money, their religion, the resources and wielded her families influence among the community. It was a fashion for several centuries to have  _ daughters  _ instead of sons, for they carried influence into their husbands interests. In her husband’s name she carried out her ambitions. What Cleopetra is saying, without saying, is that the Berenice family feels that their Lord has no appreciation for soft power.  

Avery is stupider.

“You think he should get  _ married? _ ” Avery snorts.

There is a tiny glance between Narcissa and Cleopetra. Cleopetra allows herself to grimace. “And here is why a Berenice girl has never married an Avery. There is no particular objection to his interests -why would there be? But we have questions, unsatisfyingly answered, about what he plans to do to  _ build  _ an empire. It is our business of nearly two millennia. Why would we be satisfied by  _ for you will be rewarded?  _ Put your position on the line for the extermination of a people whose existence we have  _ already  _ managed to turn to our advantage. No half-blood nor muggleborn has ever been graced  _ my  _ ancestors bed, true, but there are things for which they are singuarly useful. Positions of influence. Select matters of breeding. And then there is the, also unsatisfyingly answered, question of how he intends to keep stable a population that has been near halved. Do you procure our meat? No, a  _ nouveau riche  _ half blood family does. Do you provide us with the engineering expertise that builds our houses, that keeps us hidden from muggles? No, that is the purview of the muggleborn who learn such things so we do not have to.”

“We build them the old way. With magic and stone.” Nott provides. He is still trying to decipher Cleopetra’s notes. 

“Houses do not just appear, Antonius.” Cleopetra says, amused. “There is physics -yes, Nott,  _ physics  _ Salazar himself acknowledged that the natural world has them, do you consider  _ yourself  _ his  _ better _ \- and the gathering of materials. Do you know what materials go into making a single house capable of sustaining itself for centuries? It is not spells. It is design and maintenance that our kind has not toiled for in centuries.”

“We play fairy bride,” Narcissa suggests. “And steal what mortal and muggle knowledge we need then send them away.”

“Kill them Cissa.” Avery says half engaged. He is trying to gaze down Cleopetra’s shirt. “We kill them.”

Cleopetra snorts. “Ah, yes, in the age of the telephone when they can report such things to their authorities with ease.”

“Then we kill them.”

“Avery.” Nott frowns. “We cannot just kill  _ every  _ muggle. The statute is something our Lord wishes to keep, at least for now. And even so I don’t believe Berenice’s query has actually been  _ answered. _ ”

“Fine. We wait until we have all the knowledge and the power and then we exterminate them all.” All of them look at him as if he was an idiot. “What?”

“You-” Nott starts. “My god, sometimes it is obvious you are the heir -no, do not  _ preen  _ I am not complimenting you- There are a  _ billion  _ muggles Nott. It would take us years-”

“Decades.” Cleopetra interjects. “More to breed for them.”

“-decades, my god, to kill them. It is our Lord’s plan to conquer Britain and then show the superiority of such a society to  _ integration.  _ Should they be foolish enough to not see the clear superiority we will make them. Then and  _ only  _ then will we attend to the necessary subjugation of magic and muggle. He has  _ said  _ as much.”  

“How do  _ you  _ know?”

Nott does not say  _ because I am my heir apparents Second and he believes me capable and necessary for the succession of the Nott name, a trait we may not share,  _ but Severus imagines it is a close run thing.

Nott continues, “The question, if I’m right,” he glaces for confirmation, which Cleopetra gives, “is that we the superior have given away the knowledge and the labor to our lessers. If we dispose of them we would have to take on the work ourselves to keep the lifestyles we have become accustomed to.”  

“We would return per the information we have received,” Cleopetra says sagely. “To the time of the Founders when lesser families pledged to greater ones for land and protection. Small communities that rely on subsistence farming.” For the first time she bites her tongue on something, only adding, “And isolated communities.”

Avery, a clear winner in this scenario, nods. “Good.”

“Which presents the problem.” She continues, unconcerned. “Everyone here is an Ancient and Noble family -even you, Severus, after a fashion, the Prince family comes direct from Peverell only two generations back- do you know which families would be relegated to scut work? Malfoy, Bulstrode, Wilkes, Weasley, Parkinson, Mulciber. Most of the Sacred Twenty Eight were not Ancient and Noble families until these last half dozen centuries. If it is seniority then it will be me, Prewett and Black at the end. Apart from the fact that none of them would agree  _ none of them  _ are  _ or have  _ ever  _ been farmers. _ ”

Good god. How had he never considered that? To make vassal houses may be necessary, true enough, and to fashion them out of the sacred twenty eight will simply obvious, but she’s right in that he cannot think of any of them with agricultural ties -and he has memorised  _ all  _ their affiliations. It was the Blacks until their family wealth hit a critical threshold. Then the Potter’s and the Brown’s. Not exactly the cream of the crop.  

Narcissa frowns. Clearly she hadn’t either. “We could, I suppose, resurrect one of the lost bloodlines...” But they will not be pure. Favored half-breeds. Pragmatic but it will not supplicate Avery. It will not satisfy any of the truly militant.

Avery crosses his arms, annoyed. “House Elves.”

“Rely on human magic to survive.” Cleopetra counters easily. “If the blood requirements are as stringent as I have heard then two thirds will die. Also by the bindings of old magic they cannot toil land. If they did it would belong to them the same way houses do.” Her nose twitches in amusement. Lovely face, that. “Land Elves.”

How had this  _ never  _ occurred to him?”   

She narrows her eyes at Avery. “Do _you_ know how to farm?”

“Of course not.”

Cleopetra throws her hands in the air. Very uncouth. “Well, hell, Avery. I don’t know how much clearer to make this. You want to revolutionise magical society. Fine, we’re onboard. You want to do it without a  _ very  _ clear idea of what society will look like at the end except that  _ you  _ rule. Ba! We have crafted kings and  _ lords  _ for centuries. It is not so hard to show us what you want in the end _ ,  _ is it?”

Avery scowls and stalks out. He is interested in his own ends not the minutiae of civilization. Nott follows him but he lingers first. He and Cleopetra have a terse whispered conversation. Presumably he wants her to soften her position, to not argue with another Ancient and Noble line. Cleopetra raises one perfectly arched eyebrow and holds her position. The Berenice family will remain stubbornly neutral it seems.

“Did you notice?” Narcissa asks later as he escorts her to dinner. All the Slytherin pureblood girls expect to be escorted to and from the Great Hall. Most of the half-bloods too. Some for the image, most because of the peculiar cruelty of the violence thrown at them in the long halls between the dungeons and dinner. Narcissa was a common target until she tricked several of the students terrorizing her into an empty corridor. All of them have lasting marks of her proficiency at the Dark Arts. She was thirteen. 

“Did I notice?” Severus hedges. Narcissa is sharp and getting more so everyday. Severus can always catch a direction if not an exact meaning. 

“Berenice’s positions are echoed in her family.” Narcissa gently folds her arm into his. Delicate thing that she pretends to be. “But her words are her own. She had Nott escort her tonight. I heard them talking.”

Severus feels his heart beat faster. He has no idea why. “And?”

“And he seemed troubled by our Lord’s lack of clarity. It is the first time I have seen a Nott doubt.” Her doubts, he knows, are not many. She does not care one way or the other. But  _ Antonius. _ The clever cousin to be his heirs adviser. That keeps his ear and his interests...

“They will not break.” Severus leans them out along a long corridor. It’s longer but he hears fucking Pettigrew squealing with delight up ahead. Fucking rat. “It is not the Nott way to doubt.”

Narcissa smiles at his accidental wordplay. “No. But I suppose you did not see then.” Narcissa leans away for a moment checking the corridor for spies. “She smiled at him when he did.”    

\-- 

The second time is when she hexes Sirius Black so hard he passes out. 

Severus has just called Lily a  _ mudblood.  _ His entire life has shrivelled before him. His one true friend is gone and dust. Ashes and blood lay inside him in the wake of her exit. He is prepared to die fighting Potter. Too much humiliation in his short life, too much  _ fury. _

_ Sectumsempra. _

And then Cleopetra  _ fucking  _ Berenice steps between him and his  _ victim.  _ His curse fails against the shining black shell that is her shield charm. She disposes of Potter in a similar fashion and casts one last curse at both that is thrillingly Dark. 

Wandlessly deposited back on his feet with a flick of her wrist, he follows her lead away in classic Slytherin fashion. There is no division in the ranks. 

In an empty corridor, still smarting from his  _ defeat,  _ he asks, “What was that last one?”

Cleopetra pushes her long dark fall of hair over her shoulder. Her wand is holstered on her wrist in a Duellers guard. “It’s called Revelation of Truth. Nasty thing from Russia. It was used to humiliate the wives and enemies of rulers in public. Until the next new moon their skin with show either the dark thoughts they keep in their heads or the dark things people think about them. I admit I was not careful about the variation. Either will hurt them enough.”

Severus considers such a thing. To be so exposed...

“Why did you help me?” He tries to sneer, to pull up some distance from someone who  _ knows  _ something like that. “Forming alliances?”  

She doesn’t laugh at him. Just. “I despise bullies. I hate the unthinking more. I hate the stupidly cruel most.”

“You should be a Ravenclaw then.”

“Ha.” She glares at him. “The ‘Claws are the worst for unthinking cruelty. Did you know it is those who consider themselves above average in intelligence who most often fall into cults? Their superiority allows them to think that they will see the trap coming.” She smirks. “If they were Slytherin they would know that half of what they consider  _ debate  _ is just recruitment.” 

“Which is why they’re not.” Severus allows himself to smirk back. “And the Gryffindors?”

She falters. “Unvarnished, unearned pride is often mistaken for courage. Who’s more prideful than a bully?” 

He doesn’t like that for some reason. Maybe because it suggests that  _ he  _ is the wrong kind of prideful. They walk most of the way in silence. It picks at his too tight skin. The adrenaline comedown making him feel every place his sweat lingers on his skin. If it wasn’t unforgivably rude he’d dash ahead and get a shower in before dinner. Cleopetra pays him no mind. Narcissa would do the same thing. It doesn’t mean she hasn’t noticed how uncomfortable he is.

Outside the mirrored entrance to the Dungeons she taps her wand against the wall holding the portraits. Obediently they empty. “Make up with the Evans girl.”

He almost recoils. “No.”

“Snape.” Cleopetra crosses her arms with a frown. “Whether you like it or not you have acquired my attention.” He nearly vomits, honestly. He can think of four of his fellow snakes who would kill him on the spot for gaining her affection. She rolls her eyes. “Not romantically, don’t faint, but I have an interest in your not falling in with established norms. You may refuse or you could do what I want and you want and make up with Evans. Be quick. She strikes me as having a temper.”

“She does.” He hedges, goes for truth. “She will not forgive this.”

“If it’s still a problem at the end of the year tell me. I’ll lock you in the same compartment on the train. She’s not  _ that  _ stubborn.”

He’s not sold. “I have no reason to do this.”

She stares at him, eyes hard. “Avery has nominated you.”

What? “I’m a half blood.”

“From Peverell’s line.” She grimaces. “And him knowing that is my fault. So. The Dark Lord’s recruitment is not going as well as he’d hope. Several families elsewhere on the continent have withdrawn support. Someone has been leaking names to the  _ Internationale Press.  _ Money is not as plentiful as it used to be. A strong, talented wizard with Peverell blood? He could do worse. And has given Crabbe’s involvement..”

Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ “She won’t forgive me.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Then. I’ll help.”

“Absolutely not! You hate her!”

“True.” Because everyone knows that last month Villiana Mulciber won her challenge against Alice Longbottom clean and proper but it was their respective Seconds who got bloody. There’s a fading scar on Cleopetra’s forehead. Lily Evans was a far fiercer fighter than anyone expected. “But I  _ need  _ her more.” She taps her wand against the wall again signalling the private context is at an end. “It goes without saying that if you imply this conversation ever took place I will use today’s curse on you.”

No. Not that. He’d rather be hit with Sectumsempra. “You’re bad at making friends.”

“I’m not at all. You’ll see.” She tosses her head, smirking again. “Call me Cleo.”  

\--

Harry  _ fucking  _ Potter killed me.

Well. No. Some bitch in the wider unspoken canon killed me and crafted me into a magical abomination to do her bidding. It was just that Harry fucking Potter was the format through which I was living out this hell. Marauders Era Harry  _ fucking  _ Potter. The era I was  _ least  _ interested in. 

Razia didn’t know that I knew the future. Unless she asked I wouldn’t tell her. The Dark knowledge gnawed on my soul, curled around every intimate thing it could reach, but it was mine and lived through me. I knew what Razia did could only be undone by completing her quest. I also knew that my nature as an anomaly gave me wiggle room. I didn’t know all the things Razia had tried to save her family. Most if not all must be in my head somewhere. I did know that  _ time  _ as magic understood it was a rather set thing. What she had tried looped back around and reset. What  _ I  _ did, frankenstein that I was, might stick.

So. Snape stays friends with Lily. Slytherins turned from the Dark Lord. I found and destroyed what killed the Berenice family. Then I lived free and did whatever was left of me at the end wanted. 

Piece of cake. 

**Author's Note:**

> So this isn't a full work. It is literally just going to be short scenes and self contained pieces of this universe. I tried but it really wasn't down with being a complete narrative. Hence why it's on my SI dump account. 
> 
> If you'd like to buy me a coffee my Kofi is ko-fi.com/sazzafraz
> 
> Next Chapter: In Which Two Pureblood Girls Have a Cup of Tea and Talk About Pleasant Things


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